The Phantomhive Manor
by A Perfect Devil
Summary: <html><head></head>For more than a century the manor stood exactly as the master left it. For a demon butler's job is never really over, not even after his master's death.</html>


_The outskirts of London, 2008._

"Vivien, you're a fucking lunatic." Sam said, holding the cell phone in one hand and steering her bike with the other. It was four in the morning on a dirt road that had been closed off to traffic years ago.

"No, I'm a fucking genius. Now where the fuck are you? I've been waiting here for two goddamn hours."

"Ugh. Not all of us are google jockeys, you nerd."

"Fuck you. I've been researching this joint for weeks. This is probably the most well preserved manor in England, you can't even find it on a map. I had to go to a damn library and look up news papers articles from the 1880's just to even get half of a clue as to where it even is and you're late."

Sam hit the end button, she was more than tired of listening to Vivien's fanatical rants on historical buildings. They had come to England for two weeks of drugs, concerts and shopping but she had to go and fuck it up with wild urban exploration trips. Still, Vivien had texted her a photo of the place and it was just too good of a photo op to pass up.

Vivien stood at the mouth of drive way with a small camera in her hand and a tripod under her arm. She looked mildly amused, possibly too angry by the find to really care if Sam was late. Her hair was bright red, bright enough that you could fucking see it even in the darkest part of the night.

"Did you bring the flashlight?" Sam asked, parking her bike on the side of a tree.

"Why? I can see just fine in the dark." Vivien stated.

"You're wearing sunglasses." Sam took the glasses off her face.

"Whatever. I brought a fucking metal one. You could club a seal with this fucker." Vivien tossed her the flashlight and took her sunglasses back, folding them into the neck of her tshirt.

"You know what they say about this place? They say the head of the household was a boy named Ciel Phantomhive. He inherited the manor as a child, and get this, his only family was a butler!" she sai, holding up scanned prints of articles, random sections highlighted.

"Yeah, so?" Sam asked.

"They say the butler was a demon. Satan himself summoned to take care of the little motherfucker. They say he made the boy a demon and they lurk here in the darkness waiting to prey on anyone stupid enough to enter the manor." Vivien said.

She handed Sam a photograph, that she had very obviously stolen from the archive. The boy in the phot laid upon a couch, his clothes the perfect image of gothic sensibilities. He had dark hair, light eyes and skin so pale that it was white even in an aged photo. A black veil covered half of his face as a man in black stood behind him holding an eye patch. Sam had to admit, they were both pretty hot and she'd probably be inclined to hit the guy in the suit.

"This kid totally looks like you."

"It's weird as shit, man." Vivien said. She didn't believe in ghosts or demons, but that was such a weird little coincidence. Who knows, maybe he was some kind of great great great great great uncle.

The driveway was dingy as fuck, though the manor itself was flawless. Aside from the broken lanterns that no longer held oil in them to greet guests, the manor was as it stood in the past. They stood outside of the manor, Vivien having gone there prior to drop off her various supplies. Supplies being a crowbar and a pair of wire cutters. Sam stood by as Vivien tried the door first. In some of those old houses, they locks were so rusty all it needed was a good pull.

The door opened without effort, it did not creak at all, as if someone was actually maintaining this building's hinges and door ways. Vivien shrugged and Sam turned on the flash light. The manor was gorgeous on the inside, the marble stairs cases weren't even dusty. The various knicknacks in the parlor weren't dusty or even broken or tarnished.

"I bet there's food in the fridge." Sam said, as Vivien took a photo of the kitchen door way.

"They didn't even have those back then, you fucking moron." she opened up a drawer in the kitchen. Inside of it were untarnished silver utensils. No forks or knives, just spoons. She wondered for a second how much money she'd make at pawn shop selling these off. Possibly enough to offset some of the reckless spending. Once they were done taking photos, she was looting this place.

The china in the cabinet was fascinating. Vivien took the tea cups out, looking at the label and detail. 'Shanghai, 1768' on one of them and 'France 1585' on the other. This was history in it's most divine form- tea parties. She wondered how many nobles' lips had touched this cup, and what sort of gossip they told to each other over biscuits in the early afternoon or over brunch.

"You've been looking at centuries old china forever. I'm looking around outside." Sam said, impatient with her friend's constant nerding around. As she left through the back door, Vivien started to giggle.

The truth was that she had been here before- on several occasions actually. On the first occasion she had mapped out the entire manor in a span of two hours, taking careful notes. On the second visit, she had completely dusted the entire manor cleaning it to sweet perfect. On the third visit, this very morning she had prepared for the best prank any friend could pull on a vacation.

During the first adventure, she had looked inside of the main bedrooms for anything that might be sellable. To her surprise, she had found an entire wardrobe of little boy's clothing, one of the ensembles matched the one in the photograph. Out of some sick, sick curiosity, and possibly because the clothing was flawless in condition- she tried it on. A perfect fit, even in the shoes department. A bit tight around the bust but in that moment- that was when her plot formed. The third time, she brought a bandage, some medical tape and a short black wig.

Again, Vivien donned the boy's clothing. She wrapped her chest so tightly that it had disappeared and put on the black wig. Her right eye was covered with the black veil. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt like this outfit not only looked good on her- but she was a carbon copy of the boy in looks. An image of a time long past, as if she truly was a boy stepped out of a time machine. She was keeping this outfit after the prank and whatever else she could carry. This just wasn't about making a quick buck or making an artistic statement- this was a fashion statement.

Sam was in the green house, which was the only place that was not in perfect form. Ivy grew up the glass paneled wall, some of which had been broken by the course of time. Roses were still well alive, all of them a shade of lavender so pale that it may have very well been white. Sam knelt down and smelled them, a very light fragrance, most likely a favorite amongst nobles at the time.

"Vivien!" she shouted out, walking around the rooms. There was no sight of the girl anywhere, and Sam had been looking for hours. It was like Vivien had just vanished.

"Damn you!" she shouted out, stamping in and out of various rooms.

In the lobby of sorts, Sam looked down as saw a small black leather eye patch on the ground. That was not there before and she doubted very highly if Vivien had been back here so soon. Vivien could hear a cackle in the distance. She heard the clicking of wooden heels on the floor and saw the figure stand in front of the portrait. It was that boy. The legend was not as much as a legend as she thought it to be.

"What are you doing in my manor? I thought that I had proven the point by killing your friend." Vivien lowered her voice an faked an accent. She stood at the top of the stairs cases, balancing on her toe on the railing. She pointed at Sam accusingly.

Sam turned around to face what she in all in honesty thought was a demon. It held what landed on the marble floors in a splattering thump, still beating- a human heart. If it had been during the day her disguise would not have been so convincing but it was late, Same was tired and this was terrifying. Sam let out an ear busting screech before running out the front door. Vivien jumped down from the railing and walked down the stairs, nearly falling down them from laughing so hard. She walked out the door of the manor, standing on the front steps.

"Sam, come on! It was a joke!" she shouted out, Sam was gone. Vivien looked down at her feet, there was Sam's head but not her body.

"What the fuck…" she muttered under her breath. She held up the head, it was still warm, this could not have been faked. she dropped it to the ground and tried to turn around to get back her camera equipment from the inside of the manor, but the door was locked.

"You look just like my master. Really, I am most impressed." In front of her was the same man, that butler from the photograph. He was smiling, but he was clearly not in the best mood. He slipped off the white gloves that had been very recently saturated with blood.

"You humans play such cruel pranks on each other." he pressed her against the wooden door, there would be not any space between them for anything like a violent last attempt to escape. It would bring back the hallow memory of Ciel stabbing him in eye with a fork. He held her jaw open with one hand, ready to pull out the soul with the other. He hope that she took after his previous meal in not only looks, but also in taste. It would be a real waste of matter, otherwise.

"But I wouldn't worry about someone like you- for I am far more cruel than that."


End file.
